Silent Wolf
by Vanessa Dragunova
Summary: My version about Dragunov scar and his past before Tekken 5: Dark Resurrection.
1. Silent Wolf

Here you go the rewritten version of Silent Wolf oneshot, since I finally decided on making the plot longer. The fic is set many years back, when Kazuya was the heir of the Mishima Zaibatsu.

The original title is hyphenated: Stone-Cold Sentry, but the site rejected the function. I also want to keep the nice reviews I got here, which is why I just edited and updated the former story.

Special thanks: Thunderxtw and Salysha were the proofreaders for this work, Chapter 1 and Chapter 2, respectively.

Disclaimer: I don't own the White Angel of Death. All Tekken characters in the fic are Namco's property, except for a few required OCs.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Silent Wolf**

_Vladivostok, __Russia._

He was like a wolf with pale seawater eyes, a shrewd, predatory soul; a true human weapon. Fire flowed through his veins instead of blood, the fire of war. Smelling live prey, the sights of his shrapnel were just like a bite, and as he pulled the trigger, it would mean the end of his hunting then.

Dragunov hit the ground as a mortar shell exploded, marring his camouflage clothing with mud. Finally, fire knocked down the wall that had shielded to shoot the Japanese soldiers unseen.

His sight blurred as the pain stabbed his arm. He never made a sound when he injured; he'd just squeeze it firmly against his chest.

"Don't move back, you bastards. You're fighting for Russia. We're the best army in the world, and never afraid of the bloodthirsty Mishima Zaibatsu. Got it? So, take your damn weapons and shoot back," Major Kuznetsov spat through a loudspeaker, forcing the survivor soldiers to counterattack after the explosion.

He then fixed his eyes on Dragunov, lying on the grass.

"You, soldier!" he shouted to him without the loudspeaker this time "Show me what you got!"

Kuznetsov tossed him a weapon. He knew Dragunov was the most skilled at sniping.

Sergei was Great General Dragunov's son, and a cold-hearted soldier in his early twenties, just like the place where he was born. His father had introduced him to the military, where honour and sacrifice were worthy of giving his life for the motherland. He didn't feel in a rage regarding his father's death, but since he had been a national hero, Dragunov was forced to keep up the implied and blood promise between them: death and revenge.

He looked around the battlefield: corpses, bloodshed, and weapons. There wasn't anything else that stirred him, not when he would rather that world nightmare in times of war than peace, where death could be smelt everywhere.

He then hastened to reach his shrapnel, since going unnoticed among smoke was the best way to mislead the Japanese army. Dragunov had found the perfect angle to hunt two coronels and a general from the opposite side as well; any of them had expected to find survivors after the mortar shell had exploded.

Dragunov sought to stand out from the Russian military; the sight of his father's murderer would be set on him then. He aimed his shrapnel to the target as the three men aligned, though that didn't happen purposely, but a different move kept them where he wanted: the general was ordering several soldiers. Behind him, the coronel looked at the battlefield through his binoculars and the last man loading his weapon.

Only one bullet hit the Japanese's men forehead as he shot, making a black smudge, and going through their skulls in seconds.

Dragunov sighted, dropping the shrapnel. He was sure about completing just one piece of his _mission_.


	2. Beneath Fear

**Chapter 2**

**Beneath Fear**

_Army __Headquarters in Omsk, Russia. _

_7:00 p.m._

"A general and two coronels. Very interesting," Major Kuznetsov said as he left the newspaper on his desk. "Murdering three men by firing just one bullet has given you a certain reputation in the army. Even the nation talks about you. Congratulations, Commander."

He then fixed his eyes on Dragunov, grateful. The major knew there wasn't any other answer than silence.

"Besides, the Japanese army has called you the White Angel of Death. Honour is in your blood. I knew your father. He wasn't a merciful man in the battlefield, since he was convinced that there aren't winners or losers in war but survivors," the major continued, pouring some vodka into two glasses and offering Dragunov one of them. "For our motherland. _Na zdorovje_!"

Dragunov clinked his glass with Kuznetsov's. Despite looking unconcerned regarding his presumed recognition, every sip meant he had won the superior's trust and it meant another step to satisfying his thirst for revenge as well.

"I haven't just ordered you to come for a toast. Presumably, you have already assumed you are here for other reason, and you're not wrong," Kuznetsov assured Dragunov as he sank into the leather easy chair. "Clearly, our victory is trouble for the enemy, given that the Japanese army has put a bounty on your head."

The last sentence hit the bull's eye. Dragunov had his target exactly where he wanted.

"However, we need you alive," the major added, ironic. "And we want the same thing: the head of the heir of the Mishima Zaibatsu."

His father's murderer was a man close to Kazuya Mishima. If Dragunov's head had a bounty, certainly the Japanese army, including General Matsuo, would ambush him before approaching the leader of the Mishima Zaibatsu.

"You're currently our best sniper. So, we will take the risk of sending you."

Dragunov rose, still sullen. As he left the empty glass on Kuznetsov's desk, the major saw him off, bringing his right hand with the fingers pressed together to his peaked cap.

"Bring him dead," he finally ordered.

Dragunov stopped on his way to the door and turned his head around as he heard the major's words. He then just adjusted his cap before leaving the office.

* * *

_3:00 a__.m._

Dragunov felt dazed when he opened his eyes. He had dreamt of his father's fate for the first time ever since joining the army, and Matsuo had been in the dream, stirring him for a vendetta, swearing at his father's weakness on his corpse. He then had looked at the crimson wound on his father's left cheek. Dragunov had learnt that Matsuo marked his pray before the last breath.

He sighted faintly as the dangerous silence surrounding the HQ brought him to reality.

Through the window, the steps on the snow gave away that someone prowling around, but Dragunov didn't take his assault rifle, just glanced at it.

A hail of bullets broke out, catching the Russian military officers unaware, as four Japanese soldiers wearing gas masks broke down the door. Since the Russian military sparred in the Commando Sambo fighting style in the HQ, Dragunov wasn't harmless like they thought. He was also skilled in single-handed fights, just like the incident in Vladivostok, where he had taken the lives of three men with only one bullet.

The last Japanese soldier alive tossed his shrapnel as he looked at the other two men, lying on the floor, and their blood-covered faces, giving a hint of fear. He had heard the crack of their bones with each hit.

Dragunov watched his fist clench gradually and then he fixed his stone-cold eyes on the soldier. Silence made the soldier tremble and eroded his faith of remaining alive.

"You truly are the White Angel of Death," the soldier whispered, feeling the cold from Dragunov's naturally colourless appearance approach him.

If they failed their mission, there was nothing better than revenge.


End file.
